


electro swing, b-boying, and pancake art (among other things)

by terracyte



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dear god so much fluff, Electro Swing, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Pet Names, and domestic, b-boying, i have no explanation for any of this, its just them being cute, kind of, oh and they can dance, oh yeah its time to get funky, oh yeah we've got em, on the account that sokka exists and has the ability to speak, teaching eachother how to do their respective dances, thats a thing, they try, you here looking for adorably sappy bickering and pet names?, zukka nation come get yall juice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:22:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27218608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terracyte/pseuds/terracyte
Summary: “Look, I didn’t know that you were, like, a pro at it!” Sokka cried, still clutching Zuko close to his chest in a hug. “You can’t just expect me to see you leap off the curb, do a freaking backflip, and roll onto the sidewalk without thinking that you had broken like every bone in your body!”“I told you that I did b-boying,” Zuko replied, disgruntled voice muffled by Sokka’s chest. “What else did you think I meant?”“I don’t know! I thought it was like, book-boying? Like the rest of your nerd aesthetic! How was I supposed to know that you were secretly doing one-armed handstands and battling it out on the streets?"“What does that evenmean,” Zuko grumbled.------[The one where Sokka is a swing dancer and Zuko is a b-boy, and they are both hopelesslygonefor one another.Oh, and pancakes.]
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 49
Kudos: 205





	electro swing, b-boying, and pancake art (among other things)

**Author's Note:**

> if you're here because you were subscribed to loyalty through fire,,,, I am sorry
> 
> but!! I am working on the last part of that series and I can't wait to share it with you all! But for now, please enjoy this cursory metric ton of fluff in the form of zukka being dumb.

“Come on, for me?” 

Zuko pointedly didn’t look over at Sokka or his painfully compelling puppy dog eyes. That sneak _knew_ that Zuko could never say no when his boyfriend turned that look on him. So he just mixed the pancake batter a bit harder, probably focusing way more energy on combining the eggs into the flour and sugar than it really needed.

“Zukooooo,” Sokka had his arms wrapped around Zuko’s middle, chest pressed up against the other man’s back. He pouted and squished his cheek onto a hunched shoulder. “Pleeease?”

But his infuriating boyfriend only made a noncommittal humming noise and started pouring the batter into a squeeze bottle, still definitely not paying his sole attention to Sokka like he should have been. Sokka huffed and accepted his defeat, for now, grumbling as he unclasped one hand to steal a couple of chocolate chips from off the kitchen counter. He huffed as he munched on the milk chocolate, still not releasing the warm grip he had around Zuko’s middle. 

He moved obediently along with Zuko when the other man turned to face the stovetop to make the first sacrificial pancake.

That was one of the many things Sokka had learned since he had started living with Zuko; the first pancake always turned out like shit. This was among many other mundane things, like how there wasn’t any substitute for soy sauce because _no Sokka its_ not _just salty water_ , and that anything you had on broil would burn in an instant if you weren’t watching it. 

So wishy-washy, all that cooking stuff. That was the main reason why Sokka was perfectly content with letting Zuko handle it. 

There was a lapse of silence then, as Sokka planted his face into Zuko’s shoulder and tried to distract him by blowing annoying raspberries into his neck. Zuko, that weirdo, didn’t even let out a giggle and continued making their unnecessarily cute pancakes. Sokka was pretty sure there was a Momo-shaped one somewhere in the growing stack. 

It was when Zuko had only just finished placing the last chocolate chip onto one of the cat-cakes when Sokka tried his luck again. 

“Zuko, sweetheart,” he pouted. “Come on, please? Just think about it a teensy little bit at least?”

The sweetheart in question only picked up their plates and set them down on the kitchen island, not looking at all like he was thinking about it even a teensy little bit at least. 

And Sokka tried, no he really did, to stay grumpy and pouty throughout breakfast, but really how could he when he looked down to see a smiling cat face made of pancake and chocolate chips? And when he looked up to see Zuko untying his stupidly endearing apron from around his waist and sitting down next to him with a small smile of his own, Sokka was once again reminded by just how absolutely _gone_ he was for this man. 

“How do you like them?” Zuko asked, cutting into his stack. 

“Delicious,” Sokka immediately replied around his own mouthful of fluffy pancake. “Cute too.”

That earned him a soft smile, and as much as Sokka wanted to let his heart melt into a gooey mess, he squared himself and prepared to crank his “pleading and annoying” knob all the way up to eleven. 

“But you know what would be _even better_?” He asked, ignoring the groan that Zuko gave the second he realized that Sokka hadn’t let go of their previous conversation. “If you would please please just go to the studio with me later.”

“Sokka,” Zuko started, a small grimace on his face. 

But Sokka cut him off before his boyfriend could get even a word in, gesturing with the cat-cake he had folded in his hand like a taco. 

“Come on, babe! You’re already breaking all the norms; you’re a killer at breaking and do all your cool edgy boy stuff but you still make cute pancakes and cry when the dog dies in movies.”

“Hey! It’s sad okay? Old Yeller didn’t deserve-”

“And! “ Sokka plowed onwards through another bite of his cake taco. “You love me very much and if you do this I will love you a thousand times more even though I already love you an infinite amount?” 

For maximum effect and because Zuko was no longer looking away from him like a coward, Sokka turned his largest pleading puppy dog eyes on him. As expected, Zuko turned away as quickly as he could, but the damage was already done. There was already a dusting of pink across his cheeks and he made a tsking sound before sighing. 

He turned back to his pancakes, which he was eating with a fork and knife like a civilized person, and tried to ignore Sokka’s still pleading gaze on him. 

“Infinity times a thousand is still infinity,” he grumbled eventually. “But…”

“But?” Sokka parroted eagerly, despite knowing that he had already won. 

“But fine,” Zuko sighed. “I’ll go to the studio with you. And the only reason is because I don’t think I can take another second of your nagging.”

“Sure it is, sweetheart,” the other man grinned. 

\------

The number of times Zuko had caught his boyfriend smooth grooving to Jamie Berry in their living room was numbering closer to uncountable than not, and as many times as the older man would pretend to groan and complain about the swing preparedness of their carpet, they both knew that Zuko adored watching Sokka dance. 

It was a bit uncanny how perfectly electro-swing suited Sokka. It was smooth and playful, but still required such an incredible amount of technical skill that Zuko sometimes felt his own street dancing just a bit silly in comparison. 

(Sokka would always stare at Zuko like he had grown a second head whenever he voiced this of course.

“Babe, you do cartwheels and front flips for Tui’s sake. I wouldn’t be surprised if you came home one day and told me you could do a handstand _with no hands_.”)

But regardless, Zuko didn’t really think there was anything else in the world that would make his heart want to melt more than the sight of his boyfriend’s easy smile and eyes alight with joy, swinging away to something on their shared playlist. 

There would be times when Zuko would want to do nothing more than collapse in his bed with his back turned to the door and curl up under the covers alone, trying to brood away a bad day. But he would always be stopped by Sokka in the living room, the rhythm of Parov Stelar crooning from the speakers as he took Zuko’s hands in his and swayed them from side to side. And faced with the gentle encouraging smile on his boyfriend’s face and the warm hands in his own, Zuko could do nothing other than press his forehead to Sokka’s and let him twirl them around their apartment, his willingness speaking his silent “thank you” for him. 

Then, of course, there would be the flip side when Zuko would find himself with an armful of Sokka after one of his sessions, which always left him sweaty and gross with the imprint of the gritty pavement on his palms. But the other man would just dig his face into Zuko’s shoulder and murmur in his ear that “Fuck, sweetheart, you’re gonna kill me you know that? It’s not fair that you look that good doing your stupid spinny thing.” 

“It’s called a flare, Sokka,” Zuko would snort, trying to pull away before his T-shirt could stick any more insistently to his sweaty back. “And let me go— I have to take a shower.” 

But of course, Sokka wouldn’t listen and Zuko would indulge his boyfriend for a few more minutes by holding the other man in his arms and letting him rattle off praise into his ear, decidedly trying not to let his face flush any redder and failing. 

On most days, no matter how much _no he didn’t like it, Sokka, shut up_ \- Zuko would still grumble whenever Sokka ambushed him after a session, because while this newfound appreciation was very much welcome, it was a far cry from Sokka’s initial reaction to finding out his boyfriend did headspins and full-body twists in his spare time. 

“Look, I didn’t know that you were, like, a pro at it!” Sokka cried, still clutching Zuko close to his chest in a hug. “You can’t just expect me to see you leap off the curb, do a freaking backflip, and roll onto the sidewalk without thinking that you had broken like every bone in your body!”

“I told you that I did b-boying,” Zuko replied, disgruntled voice muffled by Sokka’s chest. “What else did you think I meant?”

“I don’t know! I thought it was like, book-boying? Like the rest of your nerd aesthetic! How was I supposed to know that you were secretly doing one-armed handstands and battling it out on the streets?"

“What does that even _mean_ ,” Zuko grumbled. 

He literally oozed the bad boy aesthetic; his circa 2004 emo haircut, the fact that red was the only color in his monochrome wardrobe, his standoffish demeanor— his _everything_ really. But then he looked over at their wall lined with a concerning number of both paper and hardbacks, most of them Zuko’s, and had to admit that Sokka had a point. He sighed as he pulled back from Sokka’s grip and wrapped his arms around the other man instead. 

“You’re just as much of a nerd as I am, you dork. So I thought that maybe you’d use that brain of yours.”

Sokka made a half-hearted noise of protest into Zuko’s shoulder and clutched his boyfriend tighter. 

“But yes, Sokka, I’m decent at this and I’m not going to break any bones,” Zuko said dutifully. But after a beat, he hummed and tacked on, “Probably.” 

The half angry pout he got in response was every bit as endearing as it was ineffective, and Zuko did little more than give a small smile before pressing a kiss to Sokka’s cheek in a silent apology. But from then on, there were no more frantic tackles onto the ground from one paranoid boyfriend, although Sokka did still bite his nails worriedly whenever he watched Zuko attempt a new power move because _babe, are you sure your legs are supposed to bend like that—_

But overall, Sokka was pretty enthralled by the idea that he basically had his own personal stunt man, and Zuko truly couldn’t say whether he was thankful or inconvenienced. 

(“So does that mean we could do the upside-down Spiderman kiss?” 

“In what universe does breaking translate into hanging upside down?” 

“Every universe! I know you’ve got the core strength for it, oh Peter Parker. Think about the photoshoot we could have!” 

“...I’ll think about it.”)

But when Sokka gave an inch, Zuko went a mile, because the first time he had seen Sokka do the Swinging Charleston on their balcony, he had nearly gotten a conniption. No matter how much Sokka said that it was for the views, Zuko did not want his flailing limbs knocking Druk off their balcony or for Sokka himself to go hurdling over the edge doing a spin. 

“Sweetheart, it’s fine,” Sokka had laughed upon seeing the frazzled look on his boyfriend’s face and his insistence that Sokka _sit right there on the couch where Zuko could see him and not anywhere near the window you idiot-_ “I’m all in one piece and not splat on the pavement.”

Zuko had turned a half-hearted glare on him then, clearly unappreciative of Sokka’s baseless reassurances as he checked over Druk’s leaves again. The pot was perfectly aligned, of course, Sokka hadn’t even gone within five inches of Druk, their monster-sized agave, or Hawky, the bird’s nest fern that hung above. But he could understand his boyfriend’s concern he supposed, maybe the other close calls with his phone setup should have tipped him off. 

But then he’d laughed and quickly turned Zuko’s follow up fussing, checking over Sokka for any bruises or stupid injuries from where he might have banged his legs against the railing, into a session of play wrestling. They had grappled on their carpet and probably ended up getting more bruises than either of their hobbies would have given them in the first place. 

“Don’t fight me, you idiot!” Zuko had grumbled, using his ridiculous leg strength to pin Sokka underneath him. He was carting his hands through Sokka’s hair as if he would find a bump on there or something. “Stay still before you make me give you any more injuries.” 

But Zuko’s fatal mistake had been leaving Sokka’s arms free, which happened to contain one of his best assets thank you very much (biceps ahem), which he used to wrap around Zuko in the world's most horizontal bear hug, pressing the other man into his chest. 

“Never!” Sokka teased, leaning down and burying his face into soft black hair. “You’ll have to fight me for the right!”

“The right for what?” Zuko’s voice was muffled by Sokka’s admittedly very nice chest. 

“The right to give me more injuries, duh.”

Zuko was silent for a bit, releasing the hold he had caught Sokka’s legs in with his own and laid himself on top of the other man. His arms came to wrap around Sokka’s waist, creating a barrier between them and their fuzzy carpet. 

“No, I think I’d have to fight myself for that right,” he mumbled. “No one’s gonna hurt you if I’m here.”

He abruptly cut himself off like he had only just realized what sappy bullshit he had let slip from his mouth, and Sokka could practically feel Zuko heating up in his arms. He smiled happily, eyes crinkling at the edges, and hugged his boyfriend tighter, trying to infuse all the stupid overwhelming love he had for this man into his arms. 

“Aw, I love you, babe,” Sokka cooed, not really joking at all. 

And instead of the usual flustered “shut up,” Sokka was sure that he heard a muffled “you too.”

(“But seriously, Sokka, do not do that shit again.” 

“Or what?”

“You won’t be invited to practice anymore.”

“Alright, alright! No need to be cruel, babe. You know I’m a sucker for your crazy dance moves.”

“I know you are.” )

But eventually, Sokka did convince Zuko of his swing proficiency and he tried not to hide a grin when he caught Zuko looking at him in the mornings, smiling like a fool as Sokka made them coffee in nothing but his sweats. He would toss Zuko a bone on those days, doing an extra shimmy or two with a laugh. 

So yeah, life was good. 

But, what would make it _even better_ —

\------

“I look stupid,” Zuko said blandly. 

“Well, I think you look dashing,” Sokka grinned, leaning forwards to plant a kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek. 

“You have questionable tastes.” 

“Yeah,” Sokka snorted, pulling off the fedora from Zuko’s head. He’d put that particular thing on notice; the hat didn’t really suit him. “I like my men stubborn, grumpy, and hot.” 

Zuko made a face, but it didn’t cover up the creeping blush crawling up to his ears. 

“And, on occasion, I like them wildly competent, caring, and adorable,” Sokka said with a soft smile. “It also doesn’t hurt if they’re an amazing breaker with no taste for the retro vibe but still willing to indulge their amazing boyfriend because they love him very much.”

“At least you know it,” Zuko grumbled lightly, blush still heavy on his cheeks. “But whatever, weren’t you going to show me how to swing dance?”

“Electro swing!” Sokka corrected, flicking through his Spotify playlist with a thoughtful hum. “It’s more than just the classics. Think more hip hop and funk.” 

“...Funk,” Zuko repeated with a grimace. He was many things, but funky wasn’t one of them. 

▸ [ Tape Five - Party Like It’s 1929 ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZgGXPCYPRWw)

The other man settled on a song and placed down his phone before turning to face Zuko, taking pale hands into his own. The beginnings of a jazzy step came drifting from the speakers, and Sokka shot his boyfriend an encouraging smile, swinging their hands from side to side. He tapped one of his feet on the hardwood in time with the beat, swaying his hips. 

“Come on, Zuko! It’s just a little bit of swing, there’s no right or wrong.” 

“Oh, there absolutely is,” Zuko murmured, timidly trying to copy Sokka’s movements. 

But before long, the older man found himself standing stiffly in the middle of the floor, doing nothing other than watching his boyfriend with a conflicted expression on his face. Agni, he felt dumb as all hell, he couldn’t and wouldn’t ever be able to move or swing as Sokka could. He could burn up from the inevitable embarrassment right this second and gladly let the Earth claim him; black waistcoat and all. 

Zuko watched Sokka do an impressive set of footwork and even pull off his fedora in a flourish in time with the drop behind the wah-wah of a trumpet, the tails of his waistcoat lifting with him. Sokka swung a circle around Zuko, doing all the silliest moves he knew with a large goofy grin on his face and a waggle of his eyebrows. 

▸ [ 11 Acorn Lane - Let’s Face It I’m Cute ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lYd7Ykb3-aw)

The song had changed by then, another admittedly very catchy, but somewhat slower beat filling the room. The mischievous light in Sokka’s eyes seemed to brighten, and it seemed like he recognized the starting purr of the trumpets and beat. He loosened his form further and sang along to the lyrics with a playful smirk on his face. 

“Let’s face it,” he chimed in over the music, dancing closer to Zuko, so he could poke him playfully on the nose. “Let’s come to terms and embrace it!”

And Zuko couldn’t control the small twitch of his lips, a small bemused expression creeping onto his face because what kind of nonsense was Sokka doing now? Said boyfriend did a small spin with his arms outstretched, ending it on a flourish with the start of the chorus. 

“Concur, admit, concede,” he sang. “And face it!”

He slung his arms around Zuko’s neck and brought him in close for to press their foreheads together, his nose scrunching happily as he declared, 

“I’m cute!”

At that, and the repetition in the actual song, Zuko couldn’t help but give a small surprised laugh. Leave it to Sokka to have such a nonsensical, endearing, but so oddly fitting song in his arsenal. 

“There you have it, I’m cute,” Sokka crooned along before he reached down to take Zuko’s hands in his. 

▸ [ ProleteR - Can’t Stop Me ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Aex51crY0Yo)

The tune switched again, faster, and more upbeat. Zuko recognized it as the infamous tune he had heard more than once playing in the mornings alongside the buzz of their coffee machine. He thought about warm mornings and too much vanilla creamer, and let Sokka pull them around in time with steps that were decidedly not in a very swing fashion at all.

In fact, it seemed almost to lean even heavier towards the welcome familiarity of hip hop step, which...You know what, Zuko could do that. It was like breaking, just more upright. 

And it wasn’t perfect, because Zuko was sure he had accidentally stepped on Sokka’s toes no less than four times and gone off the beat no less than five. But soon they were whirling around the studio with nothing short of stupid teenage grins on their faces, Sokka singing along loudly to the tunes he knew by heart and Zuko daring to offer bashful reprises. 

▸ [ Tape Five - City of Lights ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hNtP8zJFL2M)

Eventually, the large floor-to-ceiling windows facing the outside grew dark and the only light was the fluorescent glow of streetlights and storefronts. Muted colors trailed after their feet, and they were left with nothing but soft light, the sigh of saxophones, and each other. 

Well into the evening, they swayed together to the sound of Tape Five, smiling and, despite it all, swinging.

\------

“I feel stupid,” Sokka grunted, voice strained as he struggled to press his back fully against the wall. Tui and La, he could feel all of his blood rushing straight down into his head. 

“Well, I think you’re doing pretty good,” Zuko said with a snicker from somewhere beside him. Sokka wouldn’t really know, he was busy trying to read the spines of books across the rooms upside down. But then he let out a small squeak when his shirt slipped further down (up?) his chest and flopped over his face. 

There was an amused huff and a pale hand helped lift away the blue fabric from Sokka’s eyes. A mumbled “Thanks, babe,” and Sokka was letting his legs back onto the floor before bracing his hands again on the hardwood. 

“Just kick up and try to hold it,” Zuko said encouragingly, his arms crossed but eyes dutifully observant. “You almost had it.”

Sokka had to let out a whoosh of air from his lungs as he readied himself again, because he was definitely fit and proud of it, but the whole doing a handstand thing wasn’t really something he did at the gym every week. He _could_ , but at what cost? Tui and La, how did Zuko deal with all the blood rushing to his skull all the time? And doing _spins_ while he was at it?

“This is the one, I can feel it.”

Sokka let out a grunt and pushed his body upwards with his feet, landing himself in an awkward halfway point with his legs practically bent 90 degrees at the knees with his entire body weight braced on his hands. 

“That’s really close, Sokka!” 

But only a second later, Sokka could feel his wrists starting to burn and his forearms wobble, and had to pitch himself forwards into a summersault that rolled him out onto the floor with a groan. He had his eyes squeezed shut and let his tongue loll out his mouth, splaying out his arms to the side dramatically. 

“Zukoooooo,” he whined, “This is freaking hard.”

“Hey, you were the one all excited about learning how to do a handstand,” Zuko chuckled, stepping over to place his feet on either side of Sokka’s torso. He leaned down and grabbed Sokka’s forearms, hauling him upwards with a grunt, only managing to pull his dramatic boyfriend into a halfway upright position. “You were “ready for the grind” if I remember correctly.”

“You remembered wrong,” Sokka grumbled, letting himself go boneless so he fell forwards face-first into Zuko’s stomach. But then he had to force himself to straighten because ow, that was definitely a hard layer of muscle there. But regardless, he wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s waist, pulling the other man down onto his lap. 

“No, I don’t think I hallucinated the last week of your begging,” Zuko said with an amused huff, wrapping his arms around Sokka’s neck. “I’m almost positive that you told me “Zuko I’ll die if I can’t be as cool as you, you have to teach me, _please_.” 

“Lies, all of it.”

“Sure it is,” Zuko smiled and leaned in to press his lips to Sokka’s forehead, before drawing back and heaving himself and Sokka up by the arms. The sleeves of his shirt strained against his biceps, and Sokka hummed before adjusting the strap of his own blue tank on one shoulder. 

“Look, you did almost have it,” the black-haired man chuckled, dusting himself off. “I don’t remember giving you this much grief when you forced me to dance with you.”

“The faith you have in me,” Sokka wiped away an imaginary tear from the corner of his eye. “It’s touching. Babe…”

“Don’t even get me started, you dork. I’ll help you this time, okay?”

And the next few minutes was Sokka attempting a handstand with Zuko guiding his legs upright and holding them there, stifling his laughter at Sokka’s continuous attempts to blow the hem of his shirt upwards. Eventually, he got it, free-standing leaning up against the wall, and not only a second later Zuko was already saying that “alright that was good, how about we take a break-” 

But then Sokka immediately straightened his form and the tiny tremors in his arms disappeared, and he started to walk forwards on his hands, dipping away from the wall. 

“Wait, Sokka, what are you-!” Zuko lunged forwards and tried desperately to catch his idiot boyfriend from where he was sure to fall, because he had been a total beginner just half an hour ago, and he had barely held his form with the support of the wall. But Sokka only grinned and walked further away from Zuko’s panicked arms, raising one of his arms and folding it behind his back.

That cheeky fucker looked Zuko dead in the eye as he did a one-armed vertical pushup, and Zuko felt his face heat in an instant. From anger, embarrassment, or something else, he couldn't tell. So it was likely all three.

“You-!”

Sokka leaned forwards and landed onto the floor with a thump, nearly busting a lung laughing. 

“Babe, your face!” He giggled, still having the audacity to reach up and make grabby hands at Zuko. “Come on, you have more faith in me than that right?” 

“Sokka, you absolute imbecile,” Zuko growled, face red. “You could have gotten hurt!” 

“I didn’t. You were a great teacher!”

“That’s not-!”

“And you didn’t think I couldn’t already do a handstand, right? I work out and I’ve taken gymnastics before, babe. Remember how bendy I am?” Sokka wiggled his eyebrows. “And I think you’re real cute when you’re teaching. You have the caring vibe down and everything.”

“Sokka…” Oh, that was definitely his impeccably sharp jaw clenching in anger. And his extremely nice strong hands held in a vice grip that turned his knuckles white. Did Sokka mention how wonderful and amazing his boyfriend was? It was important that said boyfriend _really knew_ this at this exact moment.

“And I do still want you to teach me. I know how to do a cartwheel at like the very most,” he made sure to really exaggerate the pout. “Come on, I’m sorry, pleeease?”

Zuko stood up straighter, militaristic in the way his legs were exactly shoulder-width apart and planted firmly on the ground. His crossed arms across his chest made for an extremely nice view, but Sokka felt like he knew that it wasn’t the right time to ogle. 

“Well, since you’re clearly very talented,” Sokka gulped. That mouth was smiling, but those eyes promised pain. “How about we move on to something else?”

\-----

“I think my eyelids are sore… Is it possible for eyelids to be sore?”

“Maybe you should have asked your eyelids _before_ you decided to pull that, Sokka.”

"Pull what?"

"Do you need a teacher to spell it out for you how _idiotic_ that was?" 

“...Could I get private lessons?”

Sokka let out a shout of laughter as his boyfriend attempted to suffocate him with their turtleduck embroidered pillow cushion.

\------

So here was the thing.

Zuko didn’t really enjoy wearing suits. 

It reminded him too much of business meetings and sitting on his ass behind a desk, too much of his father’s company, and too much of a life that he had never wanted to live. That was part of why he enjoyed b-boying; he could be as much of an A-class degenerate as he wanted and do windmills on the cold pavement in nothing but a pair of washed-out jeans and a t-shirt. 

But, as he saw Sokka saunter out from the changing rooms with a smile and a “what do you think?”, he could admit that he could appreciate suits. Sokka looked amazing. The brown waistcoat fit nicely and accentuated his broad shoulders on top of a light blue button-up, a pair of slacks and leather shoes completing the look. Even the stupid fedora managed to look nothing but suave on top of Sokka’s head. 

“Careful, you might catch flies,” Sokka teased, walking over and taking Zuko’s hands in his own. 

“Shut,” Zuko mumbled indignantly, although the effect was undercut by the red on his cheeks. “ _Up._ ”

“Anything for you, baby,” Sokka laughed, making a kissy face and pecking Zuko on his delightfully flushed nose. “Just don’t let my good looks distract you, hm?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

But if someone commented on the awfully out of place grumpy man sitting in the corner during the entire recording session, they certainly escaped with no short amount of luck. They also definitely did not comment on the fact that said grump was manning the cameras, and would flush anytime their most beloved dancer shot him a grin or a wink, cursory swinging bow at the waist. 

“And that’s a wrap for the day!” 

Sokka usually recorded on his own—although after he had gotten together with his wonderful boyfriend, he had basically also gotten himself a two in one deal doubling as a reluctant cameraman— but he loved filming with groups. They were all extremely talented, and he could always learn a thing or two from anyone around him. But most of all, it was because of the way he could tease Zuko relentlessly. 

That poor sap had to keep his hands to himself on account of that they were surrounded by people, and Sokka loved seeing that eager look on Zuko’s face that was always undercut with a sort of grumpiness like the other dancers’ mere existence was doing him a great disservice. It was hilarious as it was adorable. 

But Sokka would always forget until later in the week, when it was his turn to watch his boyfriend at practice, that it was certainly a special brand of torture. 

Zuko would normally practice with the Kyoshi Warriors, a crew that their good friend Suki had created in her uni years just to fuck around. It was fun, and they were good at it. Suki and the girls were nothing but sharp and dangerous, twisting and drilling their routines. But as nice as that was, all Sokka ever had eyes for was Zuko. 

They all usually gathered in Suki’s garage where she had cleared out space, plenty of ground for those crazy breakers to dance to their heart’s content. Sometimes their sessions would outlast the midday sunlight, and Sokka would find himself being able to admire Zuko underneath the glow of dim fluorescent lights. Some flips and many of his boyfriend’s favorite freezes would result in his shirt riding up his stomach, and Sokka would have to remind himself to _behave_. 

But as fun as practice was, Sokka would never forget his first cypher, nearly cheering himself hoarse as he watched Zuko throw down with a circle of other breakers. 

“Yeah, go babe!” He cheered, somehow managing to make himself heard over the din of the surrounding crowd and the music blasting from the speakers. “Hit that footwork or whatever it is that you call it!”

“You managed to bag yourself the cypher cat?” Someone had asked him after a frantic round of him trying to catch the entirety of Zuko’s routine with his phone, cursing as the other man always spun or flipped out of frame seconds after Sokka had found just the right angle- 

He’d lowered his phone with a sigh and one last loud whoop before turning to address the woman, a b-girl herself if her outfit was anything to go by. 

“I have absolutely no idea what you mean, but if you’re talking about the absolutely stunning guy in red who is _killing it_ right now, you would be correct.” 

The woman gazed at him, her arms crossed over her chest with a thoughtful expression before giving a shrug with a mischievous grin on her face. She gestured to the inside of the circle where Zuko was still absolutely killing it— _that was his boyfriend!_ — and pointed over her shoulder with her thumb. 

“Get your cat out of the ring and I’ll owe you a favor," she snorted. “Don’t tell him, but he is definitely crushing my crew right now and quite frankly, I’m a bit embarrassed for us.” 

Sokka looked over to where Zuko had just landed one of his flips and was now spinning a flare on the pavement, felt his mouth dry, and looked back at the woman with a nod. 

She all but laughed at him, a smirk on her face as Sokka managed to snag Zuko away from the center despite the disappointed groans from the crowd. Zuko looked flushed and happy, if a bit confused, but let himself be dragged along by his boyfriend with a tired smile. 

“Thanks, Snoozles, I owe you one! Make sure you take good care of Sunshine over there.” 

And, oh, Sokka _did_. 

\------

“Good morning,” Zuko, fresh out of the shower after his morning meditation, sounded almost surprised.

And normally, Sokka would say that he resented that, but his boyfriend did have a point. Sokka was never awake this early; he’d normally be snoozing till well into the afternoon if it was a day off. But today, he felt like doing something nice, so here he was, in the kitchen (which almost never happened on the account that take-out and Zuko existed), wearing an apron with a spatula in hand.

“Morning!” he chirped back, and leaned over to give Zuko a kiss on the cheek before pointing to the coffee machine, which had been gurgling away for a while now. The trumpets of “Can’t Stop Me” were crooning from their Bluetooth speakers on the counter, and there was surprisingly no smoke rising from the pans. 

The black-haired man gave a smile and took a sip from his cup—with cream but no sugar; still a weakling's cup if you asked Sokka, who took it black as it _should be_ — and came to wrap his arms around Sokka’s waist, pressing the soft fabric of his shirt against the bare planes of his boyfriend’s back. 

“What are you making?” he asked, voice low over the music and the sizzle of the pan. “I hope it’s edible.”

Sokka faked an indignant gasp, raising his spatula as his other hand came down to grasp pale hands where they linked around his stomach, shaking his head. 

“I can’t believe my own boyfriend has so little faith in me,” he sniffled. “It’s tragic what the modern-day househusband has to go through these days.”

“...I’m just going to ignore that you contradicted yourself and keep asking if I should make eggs instead?” 

“No, it’s edible! Tasty even!” 

Zuko hummed, pressing his face into the back of Sokka’s neck. He swayed lightly along with Sokka to the music, and his dark hair fell across his own and Sokka’s shoulders. He resisted the urge to unwrap his arms from his boyfriend’s waist and instead reached up to cart through brown locks. Sokka had his hair down, and Zuko had always loved the feeling of warm brown sliding between his fingers against the contrast of short soft stubble. Ah, the duality of an undercut. 

“It’s almost done,” Sokka said after a beat. “Help me get the plates?”

Zuko obeyed, and set them on the counter before turning to rest his arms on the marble, looking over at Sokka with what he knew was a disgustingly dorky smile but not caring at all. Sokka looked beautiful like this; bathed in the golden sunlight that spilled from their windowsill and the doors to their balcony. He was moving subconsciously to the beat from their speakers, which was now playing one of Zuko’s favorite pieces. 

“Breakfast is served!”

And when Sokka slid the pancake from the pan and onto Zuko’s plate, Zuko looked down to see it shaped like a wobbly heart.

“You’re so sappy,” Zuko said, knowing full well that he was the world's biggest hypocrite. 

Sokka laughed, the sound loud and bright, before leaning over the counter to kiss Zuko, the sunlight warming their faces. He pulled away, and held out a fork with a smile.

“Only for you.” 

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading! i might cry if you dropped a kudos or a comment, so please do if you want to! 
> 
> I'm also over on tumblr [@terracyte](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/terracyte), where i drew some [art](https://terracyte.tumblr.com/post/633994553260638208/yes-but-what-if-theydanced-swing-dancer) of swing sokka and b-boy zuko if you'd like to see it! :)


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